


Tijuana

by alitbitmoody



Category: American (US) Actor RPF, Martin and Lewis RPF
Genre: 1940s, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Touring, reference to an STI, references to alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 23:58:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13962876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alitbitmoody/pseuds/alitbitmoody
Summary: "Can you just shut up for five minutes?""You want a serious answer to that question?"





	Tijuana

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LordValeryMimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordValeryMimes/gifts).



> From the [prompt](http://alitbitmoody.tumblr.com/post/162948201456/send-me-two-characters-or-more-and-a-prompt-and): 37. "Can you shut up for five minutes?"

The gig in Los Angeles closes Sunday night and by Tuesday morning, they’re on a train bound for Tijuana. Dean hasn’t had nearly enough coffee and Jerry hasn’t stopped talking since they left the hotel. About the summer heat, the last letter Patti sent him, whether the next place will have hot and cold running water, all this talk about water’s making him thirsty… 

“Can you just shut up for five minutes?” 

Dean’s not normally this short on patience, but they also had to run for the train station after the worst telephone exchange he’s had with Betty in quite a while; calling him a louse, a two-timer, a bad provider, any number of true things that might have been up for discussion if she hadn’t also been slurring left and right. Two hours’ time difference between Southern California and Ohio meant she was either already drinking at 7am or still drunk from the night before. He hopes to god her mother was the one that walked the kids over to the school house. 

So, yeah, he’s a bit short. 

Jerry, being Jerry, takes it in stride.

“‘You want a serious answer to that question?" 

"Sure.” 

“Give me something to do and I’ll try to give you _two_ minutes.” 

“I’ll take it,” he pats down his jacket pockets, coming up with a packet of Chiclets. “Chew on that.”

“Thanks!” he punctures the foil wrap with a fingernail and pops three of them in his mouth at once.

For blissful minutes, the car is silent, apart from the movement on the tracks and the slurp-slurp of Jerry’s chewing. It’s when the second noise dissipates that Dean finally looks up. Jerry’s eyes have slipped shut, head lolling back against the head rest. 

"Were you yappin’ just to stave off sleep?” 

“When I’m down, I’m flat," he answers, eyes still closed. "I wanted to make sure we made it to the train first.” 

Dean smiles, endeared, tucking an arm across his partner’s shoulders. They’re on the train now and his pal’s got nearly four hours to nap. He’ll worry about rousing him when they have to cross the border. He plucks a tissue from his pocket, holds it out. 

“Spit or swallow. You don’t want to choke on that in your sleep.”

Jerry spits.

\--

Jerry winces as he applies the towel soaked with Campho-Phenique to his groin area, a discreet purchase from the drug store delivered in a less than discreet package by the hotel's night porter. Dean nearly laughs as his partner's face contorts in reaction the camphor and menthol. He can't help but find it a little funny -- his young friend had made it to nearly 22-years-old not knowing what _crabs_ were. He's certainly gotten a crash course in the last four hours. A skinny hand slams against the bathroom sink.

"Never again."

"Well you say that now--"

"I mean it, Paul. _Never again_ ," he repeats, dabbing with the washcloth. "I should have known from the start -- three's an unlucky number."

"What? The third country you're touring in or the third girl you had on the tour?"

"Both, maybe," he hisses this time. "Can I stop with the dabbing now?"

"One more minute. 'Have to make sure it's effective," he says, leaning against the door frame. "After you shower in the morning, this will all be over."

"I want it to be over _nowwww_."

"Ain't how it works, I'm afraid. You know, I could just pick your next couple of girls for you and we can avoid this little dance altogether."

His young friend goes still then, mouth still, eyes suddenly fascinated with the mirror above the sink. Dean feels the temperature in the room drop, nervous anticipation setting in, like he's tripped a landmine or flicked the switch the wrong way on a gas intake.

"Germ?"

"Can you just--?" he looks at him then, eyes wide and as still as the rest of him, haunted. "Can you just... shut up? For five minutes?"

Dean nods. Doesn't say a word. 

**Author's Note:**

> The first half of this was written back in July as part of a fic meme prompt. Jerry's "problem" in the second part is referenced in _Dean and Me: A Love Story_ , whereas the incident Dean triggers a memory of is described in both _Jerry Lewis: In Person_ and _The King of Comedy_. This may need another edit. Comments are welcome!


End file.
